


Shit, Maybe I Miss You

by definitelynotafan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drinking to Cope, Drunk Louis, M/M, Out in Two Weeks, Sad Louis, Song fic, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, just straight up angst, mentions of a Break Up, this is inspired by Louis' new song Miss You
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 07:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12677646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitelynotafan/pseuds/definitelynotafan
Summary: ... and it hits me when the lights come on: Shit, maybe I miss you.





	Shit, Maybe I Miss You

**Author's Note:**

> I AM ON FIRE  
> POP PUNK LOUIS FUCKING RISE.
> 
> Seriously. This song is everything to me. I love it so much and I have listened to it on repeat for the last two hours while writing this. 
> 
> Also this is just 1.5k of pure angst... blame Louis not me. 
> 
> (Side note: This is in some sort of AU where Eleanor doesn't exist, it's just easier. Just roll with it. Maybe in this universe she is off dating Sophia... who knows.)
> 
> Here we go ....

The low thumping of the heavy base line is still reverberating inside of Louis’ head. He is shivering a bit in only this thin t-shirt, the sweat he had worked up dancing earlier rapidly cooling him off in London’s late Autumn cold. He takes one last drag of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground and stomping it out. He is about to reach for his pack to grab another one but catches himself in the last moment to scoff at himself. Isn’t it sad? He had left the club through the back door like four cigarettes ago and not one of his “friends” had gone after him as he had stumbled away from the bar, tripping over his own feet like three times. It’s moments like this that he misses the days of the band the most. Zayn would never have let him leave alone, would have followed him, pretending to be needing a cigarette as well. Liam would have put his arm around him and put him in a taxi to get him home earlier in the night already. Niall would have been just as pissed beside him, matching him shot for shot, but would have never let Louis get emotional. They would have stayed in dingy pubs until last call, eating greasy kebabs while stumbling home. And Harry… if Harry had been there, there wouldn’t have been a reason for Louis to get fucking smashed on a Tuesday night. A long time ago, they would have been at the club together, dancing and laughing along the music before getting a cab back to their place, slightly tipsy and in love. So much in love, that Louis used to feel invincible. Nothing could get to him as long as Harry was by his side. The world kept throwing shit at them and they worked through it all. How could he not have thought that it would go on like that forever? A long time ago Louis would have given everything if it meant he could hold on to this feeling. And he had been so sure that Harry had felt the same way.

Louis fumbles his phone out of his pocket, still getting used to wearing skinny jeans after what feels like a life time in loose joggers. Even through his blurry vision he can see immediately that he hasn’t got any new messages or notifications. It’s not like he had expected any, really. By the time he had replied, Harry had probably already been fast asleep in his hotel room. Or maybe on his way to the next town, who knows. Louis tries not to keep up with his tour too much. He’s only vaguely aware that Harry is touring Europe at the moment because Niall mentioned something about missing the London performances because of his own American tour. Fuck, when had this become their life? They had gone from living on top of each other to occasional text messages, read with a 6-hour delay because of time zones and obligations getting in the way. In the last month, Louis had spent more time hanging out with various industry people, faking smiles at their polite small talk and promises to work together soon. It doesn’t take a genius to know that it’s all lies.

And Louis had been great. He really had been. He does what is expected of him. He calls his family. He goes to all the meetings. The worst part was over. The late nights spent pouring his heart out with only his trusted song journal listening. The pent-up anger he constantly felt. Lashing out at friends for no good reason at all because it’s so much easier than admitting that he was not okay and it took all his energy not to fucking scream.

_How are you doing? xH_

It had been such a simple text. Only four words. But four words was all it took to make Louis’ carefully constructed world come crashing down. The “xH” at the end had been a particular punch to the gut. It might as well have said “– sent from iPhone”. Harry had probably not even been thinking about it when he had added the kiss, just something he ends all his texts with. For a moment Louis even thought that maybe Harry had meant to send it to someone else. It’s been … months, at least since they last had texted. _Nick will stop by to pick up the stuff from the flat tomorrow. Sorry. xH_ All because Louis had found some of Harry’s left over things in his flat and couldn’t bear to look at them. If he had hoped to see Harry again, no one has to know. Well, maybe Nick does. He had dropped by after the show the next day, an apologetic smile on his lips. He had barely stayed a minute, not even pretending to try to make small talk. When he left he had put his hand on Louis’ shoulder and opened his mouth to say something before shaking his head and leaving.

 _Everything is great._.

That had been Louis’ reply. But only after he had texted about ten people, asking who was up for a bit of a party. He had gotten replies instantly, people seemingly very up for drinking with Louis Tomlinson in one of the most exclusive clubs in town. Because Louis had no interest in being splashed on page one of the Daily Mail, stumbling out of a bar or club. He didn’t want anyone’s pity. He just wanted this feeling to end. This tightness in his chest.

That had been a few hours ago and the first few pints had helped a bit. The shots certainly did. But only the first few. After the initial wave of feeling well on top of the world, every new drink had brought him down just a bit more. Louis had taken to the dance floor in an attempt to combat it. If he got lost in the music, he would not have to feel like this. His drinking buddies had only spurred him on, staying mostly sober themselves but suspiciously ready to get their phones out the moment Louis had started slurring. Real friends probably would have cut him off. But Louis was never under the impression that they were anything even close to real friends. They were young and hungry for their five minutes of fame. If Louis gets lucky, he’ll be able to watch them self-destruct in about a year. The thought might be a bit harsh, even for Louis but whatever, he’s bitter.

He shoves his phone back into his pocket and heads back in. The wind had picked up a bit and there was no point in chain smoking while slowly sobering up. He makes a beeline for the bar to order another two tequila shots, skipping the salt and lime. It was that kind of night. He can’t find his people in the crowd and part of him hopes that they have left already. Maybe they have realised that being seen with Louis tonight won’t be doing anything for their careers. Maybe they have pulled and are getting excited about getting off with some kind of celebrity.

Instead of looking for them Louis throws himself back into the mass of people still going strong on the dancefloor. It’s hot and sweaty and Louis tries to lose himself in the music again. It takes some time for him to recognise his own song when it starts playing but soon enough he is shouting out the lyrics to Just Hold On with the rest of the club. He pretends to not feel the rogue tear streaming down his face.

The feeling doesn’t stay for long though. It is way too soon when the music cuts out and the lights come on. Just like that, the spell is broken. In the harsh industrial overhead light everything about the club is miserable. People’s make up is smudged, the floor is stained, the bar staff looks tired. Louis doesn’t need to see a mirror to know he doesn’t look his best self either. He looks around, watching the people leave in groups. Some giggling, some stumbling but all of them in good spirits. And just like that it hits him.

He fucking misses Harry.

There are no words in his drunk brain to describe the feeling. It feels like hot lead has replaced his heart, burning and trying to pull him down. Just like that he can’t leave the club fast enough. He doesn’t bother with getting his coat, leaving again through the back entrance. He doesn’t want to wait for a car to be brought around for him and instead walks a bit to flag down a cab. It’s late enough that no one is out to recognise him, he figures.

On the drive he gets his phone out again.

_Everything is fucking great._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading as always, all the love and all that. x
> 
> Go yell at me on tumblr: [definitely-not-a-fan](definitely-not-a-fan.tumblr.com)


End file.
